She'll just tell Marcus her usual workout clothes were dirty

Nicole didn't understand what drove her to do what her Discord group said. All she knew was that she didn't want to disappoint them and constantly told herself they knew what was best. After all, she experienced the most pleasure when she let them drive her libido. In this case, though, she could put on the workout clothes, take a photo, send it to the group, and put on her usual outfit. Couldn't she? She weighed lying. She rarely outright lied to the group; in those cases, it was more of a light fudging to make the story more exciting.

Nicole threw up her hands. She couldn't start lying to them now. She wouldn't be able to live with herself. She could, however, take advantage of their lack of specific rules. She often did that because it would get a rise from certain members. Even though it was in the low-80s, she could wear her sweats. Play it off like she was shy. And, if worse came to worse, she could tell Marcus her usual workout wear was in the wash. She say she hadn't worn these things in a year, and, golly, was she embarrassed about how poorly fitting these tights were.

That was it. Her mind was made. Nicole squeezed into both the shorts and the spade-emblazoned tube top. When it came to the tights, squeezing was very literal. She must have gained a few pounds since the last time she put them on. They were snug previously, but now they squeezed so much that she had a slight muffin top over the edge of the shorts. Nicole pinched her pudge and groaned. She really did need the help of someone like Marcus. Like, legit, she hoped she didn't mess this up. It was almost embarrassing enough that she again considered switching to her usual shorts, but time was running out. She'd spent so much time debating with herself that it was 10 minutes to 4 p.m. Marcus expected her to be at his door. "Fuck it," she said and grabbed her baggiest sweatpants and hoodie.

Nicole snaps a photo before slipping into the sweats. She sends it to her Discord group, finishes getting dressed, and rushes out her door. To her surprise, Marcus is standing outside, leaning against a pole. "Right on time, Wegner!" He says with that handsome, charming grin he constantly flashed when they passed on the sidewalk. He cocks an eyebrow. "It's unseasonably hot today, and we'll mostly be outside. You're going to pass out in those sweats."

Nicole bites her lip. "No, no, it's okay. Really. The extra sweat will help me burn fat, right?"

"Nah," Marcus replies. "There's no proof of that. Sweating regulates your body temp. It doesn't mean you're burning extra fat. Look, no judgment, okay? I've seen how you've started to let yourself go over the last year, which is part of the reason I reached out. Why don't you head back inside and put on that cycling kit I sometimes see you wear? It'll be more comfy, and I won't need to worry about you passing out."

"It's in the wash," she said. Nicole realized he wasn't going to let this go. "I'll see what else I have." She turns around, closes the door, and stands in the middle of her kitchen, out of view of the window. "Ugh," she groans. She wasn't getting out of this. Nicole strips down to the outfit her group planned for her. She delays to make it seem like she's taking time to put on something different. Inhaling deeply, Nicole steps back outside again.

Again, Marcus cocks an eyebrow. "That's not...really a workout top, Wegner."

Nicole scrunches up her face. "Would you believe everything reasonable is in the wash? Bad timing on my part." She uncomfortably laughed.

"Whatevs, let's stretch, and then we'll hit the pavement," Marcus said. Nicole notices he isn't making eye contact. His eyes are low and toward her waist. "Come on," he waves her to the courtyard's center.

Marcus takes Nicole through a routine of stretches. He makes some small talk and is utterly professional despite her shame. She reminds herself that he is a professional personal trainer. He probably sees all sorts of things from clients that he must dismiss to maintain his business relationships.

"Feeling loose, Wegner? You'll run and I'll bike behind you." Again, his eyes are on her waist. He has a quizzical look on his face. Nicole doesn't dare look down. She doesn't need to imagine if the shorts hugging her mound because she can feel it. She'd pick at the deepening front wedgie if he looked away momentarily. He doesn't. Instead, he hops on his bike and claps his hand. "Alright, mush!" And he laughs.

Nicole starts to run. Marcus bike's alongside her, providing encouragement and correcting her form. He has her switch from jogs to sprints and back to jogs. Occasionally he makes her switch up her form. He hands her water to keep her hydrated in the heat. Nicole couldn't remember the last time she'd run for such a long time. It's nearly an hour before he jogs her back into the apartment parking lot. She was exhausted, but high on endorphins and beaming with pride at going for so long. She could only do it thanks to Marcus's pacing and inspiring words.

"You did great. Now I want you to walk around the courtyard for 10 minutes to cool down. Come on up when you're finished," he said before lifting his bike over his shoulder and hopping up the stairs. Nicole watched him go and couldn't help but feel her cheeks flush. He was so put together. She'd never considered Marcus would ever be interested in being her boyfriend, but at this moment, with a runner's high and feeling empowered, she briefly flirted with the idea that someone like Marcus might see her as an investment - someone he could mold and shape. And she'd let him. He could make her better. And, fuck, he was sexy.

She completely forgot about her outfit as she walked around the apartment complex's central courtyard. She dreamily thought about a life with Marcus.